


Within a Frame

by SixthNight



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, Rare Pairings, Tattoos, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixthNight/pseuds/SixthNight
Summary: A single photograph can tell a powerful story. A collection of shorts based on prompts and requests. Mostly ficlets and drabbles, occasionally something more. These will feature various characters and pairings.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough & Rude, Aerith Gainsborough/Barret Wallace, Reno & Tseng (Compilation of FFVII), Tifa Lockhart/Reno, Tifa Lockhart/Tseng
Comments: 21
Kudos: 18





	1. Hero

The humid air carries the scent of flowers. The sun barely filters down to this level, he wonders how they grow. Rude watches the hard set of her jaw, the furrowed line of her brows. Maybe they’re born of her sheer determination.

But it’s a lost cause.

“You can’t escape this,” he tells her. 

“Maybe not. But neither can you,” she says while his stomach twists. “How do you want to be remembered, Rude?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I think you want to be a hero.”

She tucks a bloom in his pocket. For a moment, he wishes he could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character 1: Aerith Gainsborough, Character 2: Rude, Setting: Subterranean City, Mood: Gloomy, Prompt: “You can’t escape this.”


	2. The Face of Grief

Returning doesn’t come easily, not with memories of Loz’s attack plaguing her. But fear should not stand in the way of love.

“I will never leave you by yourself,” she whispers. “Not on this day.”

A date that is always impossible. Four years have passed to the day; the loss still aches powerfully every time she smells lilies. The sanctuary is filled with enough of the floral fragrance to make her eyes burn with tears the moment she slips through the door. She sets her jaw, bidding them not to fall. 

Not when there is another visitor here. 

The scuff of her shoes lifts his head, brings his chin to his shoulder as he finds her in his peripheral. Strands of midnight cascade down his back with the movement. Tifa freezes, presses her fingertips against her lips in surprise. Bitterness is a white-hot flash behind her eyes.

She tries to banish it from her voice. “I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll come back.” 

Tseng pivots and when he looks at her, it feels like someone has opened the door to a dark room. Grief floods the space between them. The anger she felt just seconds ago is swallowed whole by the empathy that wells up in its place. It’s all gone in a flash as his features find neutrality. 

“Ms. Lockhart,” he greets, paying her a slight dip of his chin. If he’s surprised to see her, she sees no trace of it. “It’s a public space. Stay, if you like.” 

The thought of sharing this space with him, of grieving with him, strikes her as outlandish. She couldn’t possibly. And yet, the sorrow permeating the room is so vast that she can’t imagine leaving someone— _anyone_ —alone to drown in it.

“You don’t mind?” she asks quietly.

Tseng merely shakes his head, dark eyes drifting up toward the sunlight filtering through the ruined ceiling. Though his lips are straight, there is a tenseness to them that she imagines he can’t easily banish despite the mask he’s slipped on. The slope of his shoulders appears to curve beneath the weight of an invisible burden. 

Tifa sees a man who blames himself. 

The compassionate side of her awakens. Attempting to ignore the urge to comfort is like trying not to breathe, even if she hardly knows him. She’s venturing closer before she realizes it, her voice small as she shares in his pain. “I keep thinking it might get easier each year, but I find I only miss her more.”

The words freeze his limbs in a rigid stance. He seems caught between trying to avoid her gaze and satisfying some curiosity for the candor with which she’s spoken. 

A few more steps and she’s standing closer to him than she’s ever been. She’s never met him in battle the way she has his subordinates, but his face haunted her nightmares for months following the collapse of Sector 7. The smugness of his smirk, the press of a gloved finger to his lips. He condemned them. Fury sparks through her again. 

It’s pointless, she tells herself. The past is best left buried. She’s forgiven the other three somewhere along the way, their presence in the bar a staple on the weekends. Confrontation here is the last thing she needs. The anger ebbs away.

Tseng meets her gaze then. It’s unsettling how beautiful he is; the thought is a shard of ice in her chest. His is the face of a killer, someone who did not hesitate to send thousands into the lifestream. But his eyes are warm in contrast—the color of rich, spiced rum and filled with something that paints shadows beneath them. Regret, perhaps? She’s not sure he’s the type. 

When he speaks again, she’s startled by his proximity. He’s angling for the door.

“I should be on my way.” 

A thousand things collide in her mind. Rumors, speculation, confusion, and curiosity. A question slips out. “Did you love her?”

Tseng comes to a halt, his shoulder so near she feels the warmth of him seep into her chilled skin. He answers without looking her way. “Does it matter?”

The way he says it irks her and it shows in her tone. “I think it does.”

“And why is that?”

 _Because then I’ll know my friend wasn’t in love with a monster?_ “It just does.”

He dismisses the conversation with an authoritative voice. “ _That_ is not a reason.” 

“She loved you.” The words fly out before she can stop them. Remorse pours into the empty space they’ve left. That was not hers to share.

Tseng shifts so quickly that she feels off balance. His eyes meet hers once more and this time, she finds they are harsh. 

“If this is meant to be a comfort,” he begins, his voice trembling so briefly she almost misses it. It’s solid again when he adds, “I assure you, it is not.”

She deflates, dropping her eyes as they turn liquid. “I’m sorry.”

Tseng gives a gentle sigh. Silence drifts through the room, so long that she isn’t sure he’s still there. And then he speaks softly. “She was a bright spot in my very dark world.”

The admission breaks her. Sheer determination not to cry in front of him is the only thing to hold back a sob as the chasm in her chest opens. A million times she has wondered why her friend had to die, why this is the way it has to be. Just as many times, there has been no reason, no answer to quell the sea of questions. And now there is yet another thing that Aerith did not get to explore. 

Movement pulls her from the thoughts, he continues toward the door. Without thinking, she reaches for him. Her fingers brush the sleeve of his jacket as she whirls, her hair crashing into the side of her face.

“Why...” she gets out before her voice fades. She clears her throat to dislodge the lump, gathers her courage. “Why did you let her go with us then? You could have kept her safe.”

Tifa realizes this is not fair. She’s off-balance and looking for someone to blame. A man who blames himself anyway is an easy target. 

Tseng seems pensive when he finally looks at her. His eyes drift down, settling on her grasp. Her fingers are digging into his arm, she notices a moment too late. A flush storms her cheeks and she drops her hand. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he tells her. Bland words preceding a hasty exit.

Tifa lets him go this time and he leaves her crumbling like the walls of the old church. When she’s sure he’s gone, she drops to her knees and lets the tears fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character 1: Tseng, Character 2: Tifa, Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Mood: Angry, Prompt: “I will never leave you by yourself.”


	3. Chances

She’s slurping the last of her bubble tea, rattling ice cubes and fishing out boba with her straw, when their eyes meet. Granted, quite a few sets of eyes have flown her way since she reached the bottom of her drink. 

Still. She’s never seen anyone like him. Eyes like summer, warm and lovely. Two scars beneath the right one that beg her to discover the story. And his smile, though clearly one of amusement directed at her lackluster manners, is positively distracting. One of the boba pearls plops back into the ice. 

Shoppers seem to sigh collectively in the absence of her noisy sips. Her shoulders lift in a sheepish shrug and he chuckles silently. The movement of his well-muscled chest fascinates her. She hasn’t been fascinated by anything about someone in a long while.

Aerith absently closes the book she’s been holding in one hand, slides it back into the gap on the shelf. The man watches her carefully as she crosses the main aisle that separates them and joins him between rows of bookshelves. 

“You’re dangerously gorgeous,” she says, voice just above a whisper. 

The bluntness of her words appears to send him into a flurry. A steel-toed boot nudges the underside of the shelf clumsily and he rakes his fingers over his hair before scratching his neck. 

“And not just because of this,” she adds with a wink and a gesture toward the gun that fills in for his right arm. 

He recovers and rewards her with another smile. “Nice of you to say.”

“What are you reading up on?”

Those sunny eyes bounce between her and the book he’s still holding. “Oh, this.” He flips it over, back and forth. “Just some tech jargon on the construction of Midgar.”

“Ah,” she says, eyeing the image of President Shinra on the back. Her stomach turns. “A fan of modern marvels?”

“Tch.” Something simmers in his eyes. “If you can call it that. Pretty sad about the slums, if you ask me.”

“Pretty sad about a lot of things here,” she agrees. “But what can you do? It’s home.”

A beat of silence passes, his brows furrow. “Might be a few things to be done.”

She isn’t sure what that means, but it seems like a conversation for another time. 

Opting for a question instead, she asks, “What’s your name?”

“Barret Wallace.” He returns the book to its place, offers her a hand. 

Aerith hums gently. “Barret, hm? I like that.” Calluses brush her palm when she takes his hand, the warmth in his firm grip is pleasant. She holds his gaze. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you in Sector 1 often?”

Barret shakes his head. “Not too often.” Her slight disappointment must show. He continues, “but I’ll be here for uh—for work in the coming weeks.” 

She gets the impression there’s more, but she doesn’t push. The afternoon light has started to cast long shadows through the shop windows. It’s likely time for her to get going. 

“Maybe I’ll run into you here again?”

“Maybe,” he replies. 

There’s an odd mix of hopefulness and apprehension in just one word. Nerves, perhaps?

A grin crinkles her nose. “Well, enjoy your tech jargon,” she tells him with a nod toward the books. 

“And you enjoy...that.” He gestures toward her cup. 

That last boba has nestled at the bottom between half-melted cubes of ice. Aerith laughs and shakes the cup. “See you around.”

If she’s honest, she’s hoping she will. Sooner rather than later. Maybe next time, she’ll be brave enough to see if he’ll grab ramen with her before she heads back under the plate. 

She’s halfway down the aisle when he stops her. “You never told me your name.” 

Hadn’t she? “I didn’t?” A blush blooms on her cheeks when he shakes his head. “It’s Aerith.”

“Beautiful,” he says. It’s evident he doesn’t just mean the name. 

She takes a chance. “I’m in Sector 8 some nights. I sell flowers on Loveless.” 

“That right?”

Aerith drops her chin in confirmation. She spies the potential promise in his eyes but tempers her anticipation. The door chime sounds and she realizes she’s blocking the aisle. 

“Anyway, I’ll see you.”

“See you,” he replies, more at ease than he was moments ago.

A good sign, she muses. A lopsided smile forms as she turns and navigates around another patron. The last of the sun feels warm on her face as she pauses on the busy sidewalk, thoughts of summer on her mind despite that it’s still months away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character 1: Barret Wallace, Character 2: Aerith Gainsborough, Setting: Bookstore, Mood: Romantic, Prompt: “You’re dangerously gorgeous.”


	4. Unexpected

Twelve days he’s been at the bottom of a bottle. He still can’t wrap his head around the news—news someone else gave him. He waffles between blind panic and amusement; the latter bothers him more. It shouldn't be amusing, yet it is.

Of course, this is how it would happen.

Reno finds Tifa outside Seventh Heaven, her fingers tangled in a spray of lavender she planted. The night air is heavy with the scent. 

He notices it now, the telltale swell of her stomach illuminated by the moonlight. Anger rears its head again. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character 1: Tifa Lockhart, Character 2: Reno, Genre: Family Saga, Setting: Garden, Mood: Tense, POV: Character 2, Prompt: “Were you ever going to tell me?”


	5. Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snagged only a couple of elements from this prompt but the image that popped to mind when I read it was too good to pass up. A little nonsense from Reno.

The desolate town is shrouded in darkness deep enough to swallow the soul. It’s no wonder they’re consistently sent here to manage it. This time, he’s brought the red-headed rookie along to help quell the chaos. Effective, if a bit messy. The town is firmly beneath Shin-Ra’s thumb once more. 

There’s just one problem.

Where the hell is Reno?

Unable to raise him via PHS, Tseng has one place left to look. Yellow light spills from the windows painting squares onto the dingy sidewalk. A neon sign overhead flickers and buzzes. He has a bad feeling about this, but he pushes through the door anyway.

The sight that greets him stops him in his tracks. Reno is inspecting his bare ass in the mirror, grinning like a fool at the fresh tattoo. He glances up and locks eyes with Tseng, starts to open his mouth.

Tseng interrupts, “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”

This is what he gets for sending Reno on a break in a two-bit town after his first professional hit. 

The rookie pulls his pants up, buckles his belt. “Just thought I’d mark the occasion,” he drawls. 

Tseng rolls his eyes and hides a smirk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character 1: Reno, Character 2: Tseng, Tattoo Parlor, “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else”


	6. Muddled

Chilled stone steals the warmth from his body. The taste of iron is in his mouth, his hands are sticky from blood. Too much blood. A haunting laugh echoes all around him.

“I _will_ become one with the Planet,” Sephiroth tells him.

“That’s irrational.” An attempt at snide laughter results in a coughing fit.

A deranged smirk is all he receives before he’s left alone. Tseng closes his eyes, lured by the promise of rest. When he opens them again, he’s aware the tearful jade eyes staring back at him might be a figment of his imagination; he smiles anyway.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character 1: Tseng, Character 2: Sephiroth, Genre: Angst, Prompt: “That’s irrational.”


End file.
